My leg...

The pain starts again, throbbing and waking me up again. Although this time, I'm not slumped over a shoulder. I'm laying in bed, one hand cuffed to the metal headboard.

No..!

I sit up frantically trying to get my sleepy eyes to focus on where I am. Everything is a blur. All I can make out are colors. Or lack thereof. The walls are white.

That fucker took me back didn't he?!

Using my free hand to rub my eyes, I look around me again, heart beating fast. My breathing quickening as what I fear might be coming true.

The walls are white, but everything else remains unfamiliar. A tattered chair sits in the corner of the room, there's a small door leading to a balcony beside it. On the opposite end of the room is the door to enter and leave, and a cheap standing lamp is dimly lit next to me. The bed I'm in is made neatly with the covers tucked in at the bottom, my broken leg rests on top of the blanket, so it doesn't get caught in the blankets.

I let my head fall back onto the pillow. Still very tired, my eyes fall shut, and I fall back asleep..


I don't think I've ever seen somethin' so evil sleep so peacefully. This must be what it's like raisin' a teenager... Jus' lock em in a room and wait fer their attitude to adjust. Closin' the door behind me with my foot, I bring in the first aid supplies I stole from a convenience store nearby. I've become a pretty good thief, bein' able to rearrange a room with a snap of my fingers, and all. I even managed to get a change of clothes while I was out too. Don't really like lookin' like swiss cheese.

Why are you helping that bitch anyway?

My moral compass has been swinging like a pendulum all night and all day. I dump the supplies on the chair, not caring about the noise. She sleeps like a rock. I turn to look at her. She has moved since I left earlier, not much, but it looks like she finally woke up for a little bit at least.

You should have just left her in the sewer, like they left you for the police in The Rabbit Hole. But no. You had to be 'the hero' and take her sorry ass with ya. Now yer stuck takin' care of a live wire that wants to bathe in yer blood. A+, man. A+.

Summoning a gun, I aim at her head. It really would be that easy. Jus' pull the trigger, pick up my coat, and move on with my life. Heh, yeah, kill her... and then what? Go out into the world, lose my shit, kill even more people, and hey, who knows, maybe I'll even kill myself before the OSI can get me. Sounds like a picnic.

My hand shakes, losing my steady aim. She looks familiar, laying there... helpless...

Let 'er go now you sonuvabitch! If you lay one hand on her I swear I'll-

The sharp pain returns to my head as my own voice explodes through my mind. Makin' me drop my gun, so I can grip my head. Sparky's body is blurring in my vision. Every now and again her image flashes to that little girl, tied with ropes, lookin' terrified, screaming at me, yet no sound is comin' out.

Anyway, you're too late, if you haven't noticed. I've already had my fun with her.

The room is getting hotter and hotter. A cold sweat trickles down my back. The pain in my head getting worse, I hunch over clawin' at my brain. I look back to the bed. It seems to be moving farther and farther away. The floor is stretchin' at an alarming speed. Am I doin' this? Feels like it...

I fall to my knees as the floor springs back to its normal shape like a snapped rubber band. The furniture in the room leaves the ground, losin' all sense of gravity. The room flips upside-down, the furniture planting itself on the ceiling, as well as myself on my knees. Larxene is still sleepin' unaware of the chaos I'm causin'. I can't control it. I'm losing this battle.

My heart is pounding in my head, each beat making me feel more sick. My veins... burn...

What is happening to me?!

Patient Two. Kill her. That's an order.

This voice is familiar. Its got a deep, menacing tone to it. Sounds like the one that uses the intercom at the Asylum... I aint listenin'. I refuse.

Your will is mine. Cease this folly. Listen to your master.

Again, a different voice. This one is older, raspier. Like a bona fide supervillain. Like hell I'm gonna listen to either of them. My left hand has a different idea, though. Like it has a mind of it's own, it shakily summons a gun. What the hell?! My vision blurring, the edges of my world tinted purple, I have lost control of my left arm.

Let go of your feelings. She's holding you back. Accept the inevitable!

That rough voice echoes through my head again, as my arm slowly raises to aim my gun at Sparky. I don't care what she's done to me... I can't do this. I can't jus' kill her in her sleep! No matter what I do though, I can't lower my arm. My finger tightens on the trigger...

DARKNESS RULES YOUR HEART. IT GIVES ME CONTROL.

Both voices scream in my head in unison. I can't bear to look at her anymore, my vision being engulfed by the purple haze. Shit, shit shit!I can't stop myself. With the last bit of willpower I have left I cry out.

"Please...Help...Me... ARLENE!"

Everything goes white as I feel several sharp objects stick in my body, followed by a sizable shock straight to my head. The voices and the strong control over my body disappear in an instant... Still blind, I fall against the back wall, breathless. I feel the room flip back to normal around me, jus' before my world fades completely to black.


I have never seen anything so fucked up in my entire life. I woke up to see Xigbar hunched over, half of him pained, and the other half grimacing and pointing his gun straight at my head. The whole room was fucked up, everything stuck on the ceiling, the floor replaced it. His eye was glowing that demonic yellow color that Seven had when I stabbed his arm.

He... called for help... from me. Not only that, but by using my real name...

I mean, if the fucker hadn't been trying to kill me, I would pity him. Some purple cloud had control over half his body. I hope it was just a nightmare.

Either way, I pinned him to the wall with at least twelve knives. It's nice to know that they won't kill him. A dead man can't answer questions. And I have way too many. I'll have to wait till he wakes up...

For now, I'm trying my best to pick these cuffs open with my knife. I am sure as hell not waiting in bed like a sitting duck for that sonofabitch to practice shooting on me again. Is this something that can happen to all of us? Or is it something that only happens to patients who have been "guarded"? I need to ask him a few more questions before I finish him off. I, personally, don't want any more surprises.